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My Thoughts on the Weather
(Inspired by some of Magzdoodle's pieces...)
Somehow, I missed September and October because I cannot seem to remember when the sun began to fall behind the shadows of the mountains while I was still at school and, on Sundays, while I stumbled upon breaths in the dust-confined space for orchestra rehearsals. My fall-hating memories are hidden beneath this foggy phase of ticking clocks and color-changing leaves, because I cannot seem to remember when the leaves ever disappeared onto the frost-bitten grass or if they were ever colors.
I missed fall too—and such a funny name for a season. The leaves fall and the sun falls and every aspect of my life falls. We can never seem to take onto calling it autumn—no, only these pessimistic letters that somehow direct fate. The gloom, the cold, the under-changing hormonal structures of teenagers, the stress, the shadows—everything seems to pick up during fall and drop away once we reach those happy-go-lucky holiday months and sunny days. There can never be a balance.
And with this pessimism, tears fall—unrelenting tears of anger and frustration and humiliation, and I blame it on the naked trees and sun-less skies. So many tears—dictating my life, that I haven’t even been able to turn to my fingers, rusty and stiff from an unwanted vacation, and this keyboard, accumulated with months of dust, and these keys—oh these brilliant, rapid keys that are my pen. How I’ve missed them all. I’ve forgotten about the sensation of tapping away with misery and anger and frustration. I’ve forgotten all about prose, as well. It all feels incredible; it really does.
And nothing—not even the black-swathed, star-less night, not even the salty-tears on my pillow & keyboard & favorite pajamas, not even the falling facets of my life—nothing can ever take this away from me.
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Sambo-
This is so sad and so beautiful. I've been feeling a lot of these same emotions lately, how fast everything is going that we just miss things. It's frustrating.
As I was reading this, I could practically hear your voice in my head (even though I have no idea what your voice is like). It didn't really feel like slam material, but I could totally imagine it being read out loud. Do you think you could do that at YWP's next slam, if intermission is still open-mic? Because I would loooove to actually hear this, instead of just in my head. Or maybe a podcast.
I'm glad you've found your way back to writing, and that you recognize how important it is to you :)
Awesome job on this!
Magz-
Believe it or not, this was sort of inspired by your writing. (& I think I should mention that above..)
It is frustrating, but it's so exciting to be able to write again. I feel like I drifted away from that...
I've never actually read any of my pieces out loud, but I think that's an incredible idea. I might just consider giving it a shot! ..or I may just go for the podcast :)
Thank you so, so much!
§ambo
(Translucent Roses)
Sambo-
Awww are you serious?!! That makes me so, so happy...I really had no idea that this was similar to my own writing until I just reread it now, haha. But you completely made my day, so thanks :) :)